Falling in Love with the Wrong Person
by ImaginingTheUnthinkable
Summary: Clary's a proud and courageous Shadowhunter. She loves the adrenaline and the joy she receives killing demons - doing what she does best. She loves it - too much. So much in fact it worries her Mother. But when Jocelyn goes missing it's up to Clary and her "New found friends" to find her. Is there more to life than Shadowhunting? And is she willing to try and find out? *CLACE*
1. The Pandemonium

I DON'T NOT OWN TMI ~ I am but a humble reader;)

_Hey! So, I know that MANY others have run down this side of TMI Fanfiction, BUT I'm venturing down it too! This is a story of Clary, she grew up as a shadow hunter and I'm not going to sugar coat it – she's stronger in this – mentally, physically – whatever steams your tea. Loosely follows Cassandra Clare's storyline with similarities to the movie, :D So, without further ado I give you _**Falling in Love with the Wrong Person**_. _

**I know most all the stories start with them at the Pandemonium but why not another? ENJOY **_**and**_** REVIEW!**

Clary Fray walked down the midnight streets of New York City. She seen a lot of things as she passed – more things than the mundanes could with the naked eye or exceptionally keen; a pixie in the ally way, the faint smell of werewolf, and… she stopped in her tracks looking at the blue haired boy walking through the thresh hold of the Pandemonium dance club… _demon_**.**

Pulling her leather hood up mover her odd coloring of somewhat light auburn, and mild red hair, she kept her head down as she passed behind the massive bouncer. The black of her outfit clearly giving her leverage, she swayed through the moving bodies and thick fog that covered the floors, her pure instincts of a hunter taking over when she was jerked to a stop. She peered up through hooded eyes.

She sighed.

"Hey, Clary!" Simon smiled thoughtfully, backing up a way's at her fiery glare. His black brow shifting as he took in his friend's attire. "What's up?"

She smiled, "Nothing, Simon – what are you doing here?" He never came to places like this without her – it wasn't really his _scene_.

He scratched his head, "I, uh, was kinda hoping that – you know – if on coincidence you – you and I – if, you and I were here tonight at the same time –," his tongue stumbled.

Clary – still with her tight leather jacket's hood on over her head – moved the back of her hand to her mouth with a fake cough, covering her amused smile. _He was hoping that he'd see me here tonight_.

"Simon," she decided to remove him from the embarrassing ramble, "It's good to see you, too." She said politely.

She took a good look at one of her only mundane friends; he was a gangly thing, that didn't know how appealing he really was to other human girls. His glasses falling over the bridge of his nose, and his pocket sized ego sitting on his sleeve, it was easy for her to decide that he was a worth keeping as a friend from the moment they met. The only problem was – he fell for her. The other problem was that he _didn't know._

There was a moment of comfortable silence as they stood in their place, and from the corner of her eye she seen a girl with short pink hair giggle to her friend, obviously "checking" Simon out.

"Hey," she pulled on his sleeve, "I'll be right back."

She watched as his face fell with hurt, and with pure generosity grabbed his arm and pulled him along, "And try to have some_ fun_," she winked, pushing him down on the stool next to the blushing girl, "But not _too_ much, hot stuff."

He laughed, shaking his head at her as the tiny pink haired girl began a conversation, and Clary disappeared through the crowd.

She walked the perimeter of club. The teenagers oblivious to how odd she acted - almost like a killer – but that was indeed what she was. She enjoyed the hunt. The challenge, the cuts, bruises, and even the sting of the stele as she marked her skin of runes, the adrenaline and the faint '_shink_' of her knives sliding out at her belt. There's was nothing more that she could see herself accomplishing in the blink of an eye life we all received. There was _just_ shadowhunting, which scared her Mother to bits and pieces.

Like a lion she stopped in her tracks, turning her fierce gaze to the door of the storage room. She heard a shriek, and then another one after that – too low for normal ears. She swiftly dodged the dancing kids once more, opened the door a slit and squeezed in without a sound.

Hopping up the wall like a skilled silent monkey Clary hung onto pipes, and within seconds she was on the concrete floor of the second story railing without breaking a sweat. Perching herself on the metal railing bar like a hawk she watched the scene below her play out in the dim flickering florescent light. She smiled to herself as the little blue haired boy confessed that Valentine was alive, and how he evidently '_knows where he is'_. Though, it didn't surprise her seeing three other shadow hunters already finishing the job. A blonde man, and two brunets; one boy and one girl.

With a seraph blade high in the air the blonde boy pushed the tip into the demons chest, and with a loud deafening shriek, and words that held no use, black blood oozed from the sharp glass and then there was no more. Clarissa's eyes danced with excitement – it was very rare that she got to see her work done as a bystander. It was fascinating when thought of as a play; the dance of the sword, the emotion of the main character, and the closing song of the defeated.

They talked amongst themselves after that as Clary sat in the ceiling shadows. All of their backs turned. And much to her amusement there was a feeling she couldn't fight at the back of her mind, the sadness of not being able to kill one tonight. Shrugging it off she readied herself to soon jump off the balcony and slip unseen out the door, but to her surprise a low rumble came below her feet and a disgusting Croucher Demon came barreling out from the space under her, boxes and metal pipes thrown out of the way. Taking out her long knife from her inner jacket, like second nature, she hopped directly down and drew the blade into the top of the creatures head with ease, before the others could even blink, it was gone with in seconds.

Clary dusted herself off as she stood up from her crouch, wiping the black ooze off on the faded leather of her boots. Removing her hood she brushed the red hair out of her eyes and she wordlessly tilted her head up at the others, her green eyes examining.

"And _what_ are _you_?" The brown haired male said; shock evident on his face. _I believe they mentioned his name to be_ Alec.

"It's a girl," Jace said, recovering his composure. "Surely you've seen girls before, Alec. You're sister Isabelle is one."

"Yes, I know it's a girl, Jace, _but_…?" he trailed off, shaking his head.

"What's your name?" Jace voice echoed off the cement walls.

She remained smugly quiet.

The women with the brown hair – Isabelle – then stepped closer to Clary. Taking Jace's sword and pointing it at her from a distance, "Start talking." She growled.

Clary sighed with a smile, "What would you like it to be?"

The blonde – Jace – smirked as he came closer and took his sword back, sliding it into his belt – clearly playing Clarissa's game he stood a few feet away, taking out his stele and using it as a nail filer, he began to walk around and examine her. "Well…" he began, "You have an ass like a tiffany…" She chuckled, "legs like a… Genevieve, yes? Hair like a Reba, and a nice rack like a Brittany," he then stopped inches from her face, "Trust me – _I'd know_." He winked smugly.

Clary laughed dryly under her breathe, "I'm sure you would." She agreed. "_But_, I can only assume your ever-so keen eyes missed the part marked _Clary_."

A seductive half grin made its way to the corner of Jace's mouth as his hands slid forward about to cup her small hips, "Pretty name, but there's still time to find it – Clockwork does not slow." He answered back slyly.

She blew a breath out, obviously already acquainted by smooth talkers like this one here. Grabbing his hand she put it against her cheek as she softened the blow, and was rewarded by his shocked expression – from the back of the room she heard Isabelle scoff.

"It sure does suck then that I'm here on business and not pleasure, doesn't it?" she shrugged innocently, looking into his butterscotch eyes. With a small smile she swiftly dropped his hand and pushed him against his chest, _hard_, making him stumble back to the others.

"If you're a shadow hunter then why haven't we seen you around here before?" Isabelle demanded poisonously. Clary had no clue why this woman so suddenly hated her; they've hardly spoken two words towards one another – _perhaps it's a territory thing_, she thought as she shrugged it off.

She blew a bang out of view, "You could say that I'm… _homeschooled_." She grinned deviously.

Just then the storage room door flung open, making all four of the young demon killers turn. In came the massive bouncer with Simon trailing behind sheepishly.

"Hey, Clary," Simon smiled with embarrassment. His shoulders slouched over as he dug his fisted hands in his pockets. "We heard noises so..." He gestures to the annoyed man beside him.

Clary almost laughed at how odd she must have looked; a so called "mundane" girl in the middle of a damp and cold storage closet "alone". _Screw their glamour._

She sighed as she turned on her heal, "I thought I seen something come in here."

"What, like a ghost?" the bouncer scoffed as he held the door open.

Clary shrugged indifferently, "It was a mistake."

Behind her, Isabelle giggled.

Clary smiled smugly as she paused at the threshold, "Sorry," she swallowed "– I just keep hearing this _really_ bitchy voice in the back of my head."

A grin spread across her face as an animalistic growl emerged from the back of Isabelle's throat, and was re-rewarded by the booming laughter of Jace. She kept walking.


	2. The Mugger

Walking through the people at the club Clary couldn't help but notice the women with pink hair sucking another man's face off. She nudged Simon's arm and pointed her chin towards the two questioningly.

"It wouldn't have worked out between us," he looked ahead, unbothered.

Stepping out of the loud building and into the crisp New York City air, Clary slipped her arm through his as they walked into a nearby coffee shop where Simon bought an iced coffee – offering her some – the faint ring of the shop bell chimed as the door reopened and they stepped out again, deciding to walk for a while before hailing a cab.

"Why not?" Clary asked, knowing he'd already understand.

"Because I told her that I'm gay." She watched as Simon snicker.

"Interesting…" Clary laughed before she became utterly serious, "Well, aren't you?"

He spluttered into his foam solo cup, "Shut _up_, Clary!" he laughed as he wiped his mouth, "If I were gay I'd dress better."

"I'd say," she snorted as she leaned her head against his arm. There were a few moments of pure silence that went by as they just enjoyed each other's company. The only sounds were horns honking in the far distance and Simon sipping his drink.

And then Simon spoke, "Clary, do you think -,"

Out of know where two jacketed arms reached out from the black shadows of the Post office building's alley way. Bringing Clary to the bad smelling man's chest she felt a cold smooth metal touch the bottom of her chin – he was holding a knife to her throat.

"CLARY!" Simon screamed as the man drug her deeper into the small dark and damp enclosure.

The mugger slammed her back into a cold brick wall as he yelled his demands. "Boy, just throw your wallet my way and your little girly friend won't get hurt, ya hear!?"

"Don't you _fucking_ touch her!" he yelled back, "I'M CALLING THE POLICE!"

"You listen here, just give me all your money and she won't get hurt! What do you not understand?!" He turned to Clary, spouting words out – hoping to make her feel uncomfortable, but in fact, Clary was miles away.

She stood there looking exceptionally bored being caught up in a totally mundane experience. Of course this has happened before on occasion; her small build and young looks making her an easy target – but it didn't hurt that she _was_ out most nights anyways. She could have taken out her weapons and scared the man off, or beat the shit out of him with her bare hands, but she decided to just let it play out how it may…

"I _ASKED_ if you _heard_ me?!" he shouted, "Give me all your money!"

She sighed, "You know you don't have to shout at me – I'm right here." She smirked, "And while we're on the subject it's called '_personal Hygiene_'" she quoted lazily, "Ever hear of deodorant?"

"_CLARY_!" Simon scolded.

The man grunted as his hand extended back and then catapulted forward. She ducked with little effort, and instead of him screaming in pain as his knuckles hit the brick wall – _like a normal human_ – he bent forward into the faint light of the ally way, clutching his hand, giving away his scaly black skin and long yellow lizard nails under the trench coat.

He lunged for her, angrily snarling – the cold of the air making his breath come out white as smoke - Out of her boot she held a shining dagger. Running towards the stone wall Clary hopped out of his way. Coming down on the dumpster's lid.

"_Shadowhunter_," he snarled lowly.

She threw her body forward into a front flip, her boots hitting the ground as she slit its throat, "_Indeed_."

His clawed hand swept forward, and with a maddening swish his thick lizard-like nail cut into her side _deeply, _she could feel the blood slowly start to seep out. Pressing her hand firmly against her womb she kicked him with force in his abdomen. His body hit the wall with a loud thud and his nails scrapped across the bricks.

"_Child_," he hissed lowly as he lurched towards hers. His voice sounding different then his thick New Yorker accent, "_You'll suffer dire consequences that you'll soon regret. Treachery so severe that demons will descend from your own personal hell to watch you dwindle inch by inch until you're no more, Clarrisa._"

"Yeah, yeah" she breathed, sticking her blade in his chest, "I've heard it all before." And within seconds he was gone.

She wiped the red hair off her sticky face, and began to wipe the goo on the walls and off her hands.

Just then she heard Simon – blind in the darkness – trip over and stumble on boxes and trash cans.

"Clary!" he yelled, "Where are you?! Where is _he_?!" he started to panic.

Squinting for Simon she tapped on his shoulder, making him jump ten feet. "It's me," she said calmly, still clutching her side, "And he's gone, Simon."

He pulled Clary into his arms – unaware of her injury – and pressed his lips to her damp hair.

She smiled thoughtfully, "I guess your threat drove him off."

"Where'd he go?"

"Before I knew what was happening he took off that way -,"she instinctively pointed with her chin, "and up the fence – He's gone, Simon, let's just leave."

"Wait, Clary – are you hurt?" He asked as he pulled her under a street lamp.

"I'm fine," she reassured.

"Well, we should call the police or -,"

"He's _gone_, Simon. Let's just… leave it." She pulled on his hand.

"Clary!" he ran his hand through his brown hair, "You almost died! _You_ should even be freaked right now!"

"Please don't over exaggerate; I'm fine, he's gone, you're unharmed – let's just get home."

Whistling through her teeth, a yellow taxi cabs wheels screeched to a halt in front of her. Walking to door – and still slyly holding her throbbing side – she motioned for him to get him.

With a stubborn huff he stomped inside and Clary slid in too.

The cab ride was quiet as they sat in the darkness. Only the flicker of street lights and the grunts of the driver as he listened the baseball game on a portable radio. In a moment of weakness she leaned over to look at her side under her jacket and shirt. Her hand was covered with blood.

"Look, Clary, I understand that – OH MY GOD! Are you _bleeding_?!"

The cab came to a sudden halt as she brought her arm out in front of her before she could hit her face against the seat.

"Sir, we need to get to the hospital, like _now_ -!" Simon once again panics.

Clary groaned as she slouched in her seat and rolled her eyes. She could only imagine him as a Shadowhunter; _"Die demon! Oh – wait, did that hurt? I'm sorry, will you be okay? Where do you want me to stab you? Right here? Will that be more comfortable for you? OH MY GOD! I GOT A SPLINTER!"_

Yeah…

"We won't need a hospital, just keep driving to our original location." She leaned forward with a grunt, and then back again.

"Clary! You're _bleeding_!"

"And you're a drama queen, so what? I'm still your friend." She smiled at him.

He rolled his eyes, "You know there's a fine line between courage and stupidity, Clary – and you just keep jumping back and force." She heard the cab driver grunt in agreement.

"Listen Simon, we'll get home and Luke and my Mom will bring me to the hospital – they'll take care of everything. Don't worry about me." She said absentmindedly as her out stretched arm played with the door lock.

"Oh, Clary, but I do," he sighed as the car stopped. Hopping out of the car Clary paid to cabbie – much to Simon's disapproval. She leaned against him as they waited for the elevator to arrive, and then again as they walked across the hall to her apartment – Simon firmly holding her to his side.

He jammed the key and jiggled it into the handle as the door flew open. Jocelyn ran to them when she seen Clary limping.

"Oh, my poor Baby!" Jocelyn screamed, bringing them into the kitchen table.

"What happened?!" Luke then ran into the room and away from the flat screen.

"We ran into some trouble… and to make a long story short my side just got a little cut," Clary shrugged, swinging her legs over the edge of the table.

"Clarissa!" Jocelyn scolded, "I told you not to walk around New York so late at night! You could have gotten severely injured! You could have gotten shot – or worse!" she shouted. "Do you have any idea what that would put me and Luke through?! Do you think about others before you act with _such _stupidity!?"

"Mom -,"

"No, your Mothers right, Clary." Luke interjected firmly.

Clary hung her head in shame, "I'm sorry. I didn't think -,"

"Damn right you didn't."

Jocelyn sighed as she wiped her hand across her forehead – the dish towel still in her palms. "Simon, Honey, you can go home now. Thank you for taking care of Clary when – evidently – she can't take care of herself."

"You welcome, Ma'am, but I really didn't –," he began sheepishly.

"It's okay, hun. We'll see you again soon – alright?" she smiled sadly. "Tell your Mother that we said 'Hi'."

"Okay." He looked up through his glasses, "See ya, Clary." He hugged her as if she was as delicate as withering cloth.

"Bye, Simon." She hugged him back.

"So, what are we going to do with you now, Clarissa Fray?" Jocelyn tapped her foot against the aluminum kitchen floor.

"There's no other choice then to bring her into the ER, Jocelyn," Luke sighed, scratching his head.

They all heard the door click shut as Simon left the concerned parents with the 'misunderstood' teen. They all looked around at each other and grinned. Luke leaning against the kitchen island as Clary's mother began drying the dishes.

"So," Jocelyn smiled over her shoulder, "How many d'ya kill?"

Clary chuckled as she walked over to the table and started to look through the mail, "Two; one shape shifter in the ally, and two at the Pandemonium," she threw the mail down and grinned at Luke and her Mom, "I have to say – kind of disappointed. Neither put up much of a fight."

Luke laughed, "Wait, that's three, kid."

"There were others - institute kids." She said matter-a-factly, grabbing an apple from the fridge and taking a bite.

"Hm," Jocelyn nodded, "Well I'm glad you let Simon play hero for a night," she winked at her only daughter.

"Yeah," She laughed once, "Well, I'm heading off to bed."

"Okay, Good night, Kiddo." Luke hugged her.

She then went to her Mother, "Night, Momma," Clary said as she gave her a loud smooch on the cheek, and then started to walk down the hall.

"Good night, Clary – don't let the downworlders bite."

Clary laughed as she turned around, walking backwards, "Funny, Mom."

As she entered her personal sanctuary she set the apple on her dresser as she stripped off her blood dry jacket and shirt until she was just wearing her black bra and jeans. She then changed into shorts and clean socks. Arranging her knifes in her dresser drawer Clary dug out her stele. Sitting on her bed she drew the healing rune close to the gash at her side, the tip of the metal lightly burning a trail of black ink into her skin. Letting out the breath she didn't even know she was holding she leaned her tangled mop of red hair against her bed frame as the stele slipped from her fingers and on to her sheets.

Just another day as a Shadowhunter.


	3. The Alliance

Clary sat on her bed, drawing in her worn and torn dark brown old-world wrap sketch book that was given to her by her Mother. Her hair was pulled back into a pony tail, showing the runes that ran the path up her neck, on her collar bone, and down her arms - easily visible against the pale color of her white wife beater. She only ever wore short sleeveless shirts and shorts when she was in the privacy of her home, other than that the "mundane" side of her closet – as she called it – was filled with turtle necks, pants, long sleeved shirts, sweaters, and the occasional scarf.

She silently laughed to herself, remembering all the times that Simon accused her of being albino under the many layers of clothing. It was true that he'd never seen her in a tank top since the 5th grade, and that every time he dragged her to the beach she only ever wore sweaters and pants, but the good thing about Simon was that he didn't ask what he didn't feel he needed to know.

Finishing off her newest creation of rune she let out a huff of breath and examined it closely. It wasn't bad, surly to anyone else they'd find it rather good, but she'd never be as good of an artist as her Mother.

Closing her personal journal she tucked it under her pillow and went into the kitchen for the ringing phone, seeing Simons Mother's name flash across the caller ID Clary picked it up.

"Hellooo?" Clary sang into the phone; knowing that it'd be Simon.

"Hey, Clary," Simon said from the other end, "How ya doing? Did you go to the ER last night?"

"Yeah," she lied smoothly, "Just went in, got a couple dissolvable stitches, and before I knew it I was at home again."

"Jeez, Clary – you talk like you were in there for a simple checkup, not a side slash made by a mugger!" He exclaimed animatedly.

"Why what's up?" She walked over to the kitchen and grabbed any source of nutrition she could find. Settling for a yogurt she plopped her body down on the couch and opened the lid.

"Well, if you're up to it – but I understand if you just want to rest today –,"

Clary smiled, "Spit it out, Lewis..." She said slowly, as if he was a toddler.

"Ha. Ha." He mocked, "You wanna go to Eric's poetry reading later today?"

"Sure, when?"

There was a brief pause as symbols crashed in the background, and a few '_Nice one, Dufus_!" 's rang around the room.

"_Hey! Can you guys shut up for a minute_?" Simon yelled, Clary suspecting that he was covering the phone with his hand, "Sorry, what was that, Clary?"

"Where are you?" She asked, already having an idea.

"We just finished band practice a couple minutes ago – So you'll be here later, right?" he asked with hope, "and your Mom won't mind?"

"Well, after last night I don't think she's exactly ecstatic about me going out again." Another lie, Clary had come home - after a night of Demon slaying - under way worse conditions. _Just last week she_…

"You didn't tell her everything that happened, did you?" _More than I told you_, she snickered to herself.

"Nope, for all she knows I could have been hurt by a cross-dressing Santa Clause baring a machete'," She rolled her eyes, licking her spoon clean of blueberry yogurt.

"Well that would have been a sight," Simon laughed, "Listen, I'll pick you up if it makes things easier with your Mom – she adores me, how could she say no to this face?"

She laughed once, "K, I'll see you later, Simon."

"See you Clary!" the phone then went dead.

The rest of the day was fairly productive, between sharpening her weapons and cleaning the blood stains off of her clothes – she was a master of that by now – she went into her room and dug out a pair of worn faded blue jeans, a green shirt, and a sweater. Lacing up her faded and scuffed gray combat boots, she tucked away her stele in the sleeve of her coat and her seraph blade in her sweater, wishing she could bring them all.

She was glad that the nights gave her the solitude to be a Shadowhunter, she'd like to think without them she'd go mad always trying to hide her blades and such in her inner coats, and her runes too. Of course she wouldn't have to if she ditched Simon, or told him about her "double life", but he was her best friend – even if her friendship came with consequences.

Walking out of her room she found her Mom putting away groceries in the kitchen.

"Hey, Mom, where's Luke?"

Jocelyn turned around; the corn flaked still in her hand, "At home," she shrugged, "You going out?"

"Yeah, Simon will be here soon. He wants me to go with him to a poetry reading tonight at the Java." Clary stated with false enthusiasm. Her mother laughed.

"Poetry, huh? That sounds fun Clary; maybe you'd be interested in it, too…" Jocelyn suggested, "I mean you are a very talented artist, you could take our pictures and turn them into words."

Clary gave an inward groan – this wasn't the first time her Mother gave an alternative to Shadowhunting. If fact, Jocelyn was worried about her daughter in more ways than one. Not the fighting, she knew Clary could defend herself if need, but her social life too. Sure she had Simon, and more downworlder friends than Jocelyn probably even knew of – but her daughter ate, drank, and slept shadowhunting. She often wondered if Clary would put anything else first if given the chance. That's what she was most scared about; her daughter was a spitting image of her, but had Valentines strong will.

"Standing on a stage while strangers watch me try to rhyme Demons and Nephilim – no thanks. I rather dine with the silent brothers." Clary smirked.

"Clarissa Adele – I swear you're going to end me someday." Her Mother said as she walked in front of her daughter.

"Death by overly worried nerves – sounds interesting." Clary smirked.

Jocelyn cupped Clary's face and grabbed her hand, "Just promise me that you'll try to experience something new in your life, Clarissa."

She sighed, defeated, "Okay, Mom, I will."

With a bright smile Jocelyn kissed Clary's forehead and gave her a hug, just then Simon knocked on the door.

"I'll see you later, Mom. Love you," Clary said as she grabbed her house keys, "Don't wait up!" she called, shutting the door and retreating down the stairs with Simon.

"So, how's your side feel?" Simon asked, it wasn't the first time they'd talked on their way over to Java but it was the first time he asked about it. They were walking into the building and he held open the door.

Clary clutched her "_acing_" side gently, "Better than you'd think," she said with reassurance, looking around the small coffee shop.

The air smelled of coffee grounds, and new furniture. And the people scurried in from the cold air like mice from a sinking ship. Setting his coat down to save his spot Simon walked to the busy counter and ordered two coffees.

"Excuse me," a tiny blond girl leaned over to Clary. "Is that your boyfriend?" she gestured.

Clary followed to girls gaze to where they landed on Simon, totally oblivious to anyone else as he tried not to drop either of their Styrofoam cups.

Clary held back a laugh, "No, he's just a friend," she assured, her fingers running over her stele that she held in her sleeve.

"He's _cute_. Does he have a girlfriend?" she bit her lip, waiting for the okay.

"Yes, I believe his queen lives in the mythical universe of Dungeons and Dragons." Clary said smugly, her eyes tracing patterns on the colorful wall. She heard someone laugh from behind her.

"God, I really hate it when they run out of mugs," Simon grumbled as he set the drinks down on the table and took back his original spot.

"Hey," Clary whispered over to him, "I think you have an admirer." She wiggled her eyebrows.

"Who?" he leaned back, looking around.

Clary nodded at the girl to her side, and much to her surprise he gave a bored shrug, sipping his coffee gently.

"Do you just not have a thing for blondes?" Clary said mostly to herself, "But, come to think of it, you've been turning down most of the girls I've been trying to set you up with," she turned to face him on the green couch accusingly.

"I'm just not interested in dating right now, Clary, I'm -,"

"'_just waiting for the right girl to come along_,' _yada, yada, yada_…" she mocked sluggishly, she heard it all before from him. She picked up her coffee and drank down a hot gulp, feeling it burn as it passed down her throat. It wasn't the fact that he wouldn't date that made her furious, but when he said '_the right girl_' he ment Clary, and that gave her a head ace.

"Listen, I just like someone else." He swallowed, his features turning a pale green.

Clary sighed, "Okay, who?" she challenged. She was dreading the day that would lead up to this; his confession, her deflection, and things wouldn't be the same again. But at moments like this she found it honestly amusing when he tried to say his feelings but she knew he wouldn't.

"It doesn't really matter, Clary, lay off it," Despite his harsh statement his voice didn't change, but his face did – even more nauseated.

She smirked at him as she leaned over to the blonde girl, "Here's his number," she doodled it on a napkin, "and I think you two will make great '_friends_.'"

She heard another stifled laugh come from behind them, the same one as before, she turned around and seen the same blonde haired, golden eyed boy from the club. _Jace _was his name. He was wearing the same cynical clothing, black on black on black over black. And his short sleeved shirt revealed the think scars that he had, left behind from runes.

He nodded towards her, knowing that she's understand what he ment, as he got up from his green plush seat and walked out the back door.

"I'll be right back," Clary said almost absentmindedly.

"Clary!" Simon said as she got up from her spot.

She walked directly to the back door, slid past it as it was about to close, and found him leaning against the wall.

"Hello, Clary," he looked over at her from under his leather hood, his eyes burning into hers, "Your friend's poetry is terrible."

"Jace," she nodded, as if they were longtime friends. "Couldn't agree more." She looked him over; he was much taller that he seemed last night at the pandemonium. His hair looking like shinning copper pushed back from his fierce golden eyes and the ends curling behind his ears. His cheek bones and features so perfectly angular and drawable – an artist's dream to draw.

"You know, you don't have to wear your sweater if you don't want to, I already know what runes look like. I am a Shadowhunter." He rolled his eyes, his voice on the verge of boredom.

Shrugging out of her thick sweater left her in a tight black V-neck T-shirt, most of her permanent runes -and the ones that drew on herself before leaving the house – were visible as a few ran down her arms, and the rest along her chest. Taking her stele out of her disregarded sweater she placed it in the back pocket of her pants, crossing her arms she turned her attention back to Jace.

"It must be terrible having to be around mundanes all day," he gestured towards the door as he stood straight, "Having to hide what you really are, having to fight to urge to _fight_." He taunted.

"Don't talk about things you don't know."

"Is the mundane boy a touchy subject?" the side of his mouth turned up.

"Aren't you apart of a gang? The three musketeers or something?" she tilted her head at him, "Where are the other two?"

"There at the institute," He spoke directly, "they don't know I'm here, Clary."

"_Why_ are you here, Jace?" She asked curiously. Not understanding very clearly his intentions. "I left you institute kids alone, and you institute kids left me alone."

"That's the problem. We never knew that you existed, Clary, so we never had the choice. You, on the other hand, knew there were others in the New York area but chose to keep to yourself. Why is this?" he pressed two fingers to his lips.

"Are you their messenger boy, too?"

"No, I already told you that the others are oblivious to my presence here."

"I find it enjoyable and most comfortable when I'm alone. I have no use for your help or your friendship. Now, why are you here, Jace?"

He started to pace slowly, rubbing his wrists. Turning his gaze away from the passing people on the nearby sidewalk he set his eyes on her, "I would like an alliance with you, Clary."

Well that was the last thing she was expecting to hear come out of his mouth, "Wait. What? Are you serious?"

"Don't worry; I'm not asking you to come over and have Sunday morning brunch with me, I'm asking you for a simple, fine-line, alliance with you and the institute."

"Why, though? You're a capable group, I like being on my own. We don't need each other."

"Please, bear with me, Clary. '_You scratch my back I scratch yours_' sort of ordeal. Whenever we may need your assistance we can count on you, and vice versa, quite simple really. Not friends, not enemy's."

A grin spread across her face, "Now I _really_ think this wasn't your idea."

"And why not?" he examined her.

"Because you'd never be asking me this on your own. You and me are alike – we're both vile, big ego, amazingly talented Shadowhunter. You don't even like being with _them_ half the time, do you? You know you can take care of yourself and couldn't care less about _me_. The last thing you'd want to do is ask someone for help. So? What's really going on?"

"Aw!" he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, "For the last time, little girl, I am here _and_ asking you this on my own free will. Now are we going to stand around and look into the _why's _or are we going to get an answer?"

A devious smirk spread across her face as she walked closer to him, "Get down on your knees and tell me ya need me."

He looked over at her from his hand, "What? Are you mental?"

"I think you heard me, Jace." She gestured to herself, "Tell me you need me and we can form this little '_alliance_', institute boy."

He looked at her for a moment, his head turned up as his mind thought of a way to get out of this, or if she was even serious.

Taking out her Stele she pointed leisurely to the ground before her, "I'm waiting." She smirked.

Arms still crossed he walked closer to her, getting down on his bended knees, "If this ally muck ruins my pants you owe me a new pair." He grumbled.

She smiled and nodded in agreement.

After a few moments of waiting there was a quick movement, much to her surprise he was on his feet again, closer to her this time, so close that when he spoke his breath hit her face, "We need you Clary, _I_ need you."

She smiled at him, "That's all I needed to hear."

He grinned back.

Her phone then started to chime throughout the small alleyway, uncrossing her arms she grabbed it out of her back pocket and seen her Mother's name blink across her screen.

Jace backed away a fraction watching her intently.

"Hey, Mom."

**Please review! And I think you know what happens next;)**


	4. The Ravener

**A/N Thanks for the reviews that I received! I'm really grateful, and even though there was only three, they're what keeps me writing this story – so I would be really happy if you could just give me feedback about the chapter/story as much as you can so I know if I should keep going or not, and what you thinking about it! Please tell your friends too!:) **

"Clary! Where are you?" Jocelyn said frantically into the phone. In the background she could hear dishes and glass breakables being thrown across the room.

"I'm still at the Java. What's happening?" She said as calmly as she could, all of her attention directed to the call, listening for anything on the other end that she could use to make sense of.

"They're here, Clary." The loud noises stopped, and it was deafly quiet, only the Jocelyn's quiet choked voice on the other end.

"Who's '_here_'? Mom, what are you talking about?" Clary demanded sternly as she – unknowingly - clutched her stele in her fisted hand, the thick edges making her palm scream with pain.

"Just be a good girl, Clarissa. Call Luke – he'll know what to do." Her voice reminded Clary of when her Mother used to walk into her room when she was just a child, soothing her to sleep as she told her daughter that the dark cloaked people would save her from the monsters under her bed; reserved.

"I'm coming home!" Clary yelled stubbornly, about to hang up.

"It'll be too late!" She said indifferently, her voice growing.

She heard a loud crash and a thick voice exclaim, "_There you are_!"

"_Mom_-!"

"I love you, Clary." Her voice calm, and then the phone went dead on Jocelyn's end.

"Dammit!" She cursed, pushing the phone into her back pocket and drawing a sloppy Mendelin glamour rune on her arm.

She quickly ran out of the alley, cutting corners and dodging oncoming cars on the street. Being careful not to run into any bystanders she finally made it to her apartment building; swiftly maneuvering herself in the nearly dark night up the metal steps she climbed through the kitchen window.

The kitchen was dead silent, cereal and plants knocked down – the contents of dirt and lucky charms scattered on the floor. The cabinets all open, with the plates they once held broken, lying on the floors like hundreds of little islands.

But no Jocelyn in sight.

It was quiet, too; the only sounds coming from outside of cars and people.

As she looked around her wrecked home, on instinct, she reached for her hip; feeling around for her Sensor that was not there.

She heard a noise to her right and her eyes snapped to the direction of the kitchen window. Letting out a relived sigh she saw Jace at her side, slipping his sensor from his belt. She had forgot he been with her just a few minutes ago, and he didn't seem too happy about it.

The two Shadowhunter's walked through the trashed apartment, their boots the only things making noise as the glass crunched beneath their feet. Jace tapped on her arm.

"There's a Demon here." He said surely, looking away from his Sensor and around the room.

Giving him a curt nod she took off towards her bedroom, going straight for her hidden collections of weaponry in her closets secret hallow wall. Tearing off the rectangular bored she grabbed the first metal piece her hand could find when she heard a big crash in the living room and Jace's loud grunt.

The first thing she saw when she ran into the main room was him rolling on him back across the floor, landing in a crouched position – a knife secure in his palm – as a Ravener demon made his way towards him. Acting as a distraction she ran across the monsters peripheral view and against the opposite wall of Jace.

She smirked at him with a small wave of the hand before running towards the monster. Its giant tail made a '_swoosh_' sound as it tried to slice at Clary sphinx like moves, following her in every which way direction. And in the midst of all that was happening she couldn't help but laugh. The monster, being as slow as it is, was very clumsy. Knocking into the TV, China cabinet, and walls like a dog on hard wood floors. It cornered her and she had it right where she wanted it, and as she drew the long leather handled sword above her head and rammed it down between the Ravener's eyes its head moved abruptly, looking at Jace who was now beside Clary. The sword came down on the demon, and it dug deep into the Raveners nose. Sucking in a great amount of breath its sneeze came at the two like a wet hurricane before his fell to the ground dead.

"Well that was fun," she laughed dryly, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her slimy jacket.

They were both covered in green snot and poison. Thick globs stuck to their clothes and hair.

He looked at her through hooded eyes, trying to figure her out, as if she was a psychopath. "_Fun_? Hasn't anyone ever told you not to play with your demons?" he said as he wiped his palm against his black fitted pants.

"Not recently," she turned her gaze to the far end of the room where all her Mothers paintings hung. All of them torn to shreds, some hanging lopsided on the walls. It looked like huge claws scrapped against the material. And it was then she wondered where her Mothers was right now, and if Jocelyn was safe.

"Well we aren't just going to stand here, are we? We need to get you to the institute." He said sternly.

She scoffed at him lightly, rolling her eyes as she began to walk to her doorless bedroom. She shuffled through her Shadowhunting clothes, stuffing them in a long dark black duffle bag along with her weapons.

"And may I ask what is so funny?" he eyed her, leaning against the door frame.

"It's hilarious that you institute kids talk about that place like it's a holy temple. Like nothing or no one can touch you there. It just solves every problem on earth – Can you toss me that?" She asked, gesturing towards her beanie hat on her dresser.

Throwing it in her direction she caught it in midair, quickly shoving it in the bag too.

"Well I'm assuming you're not going to stay here," he waved around the apartment, "and you are packing your things as we speak, so where are we heading to, may I ask?"

"_We_?"

He smirked, picking up one of her drawing pencils and twiddling it in his fingers, "_We_; as in more than one, usually two." His gold eyes found hers with a devious glint.

She looked him up and down; his strong, slim build, his perfectly manicured fingers, and his curly blond hair that even looked good after being coated in demon slime, she shook her head at him, "You wouldn't last living under bridges, if it came to that."

His eyebrows furrowed together, caught off guard, "And why not?"

"You're a great Shadowhunter, but you're too domesticated." She said truthfully, "Have you ever worked at a mundane job?"

He stuck his nose up at her, "No; but I'm sure killing demons and having fighting skills _better_ than a well-trained ninja just _has_ to come close with stacking sweaters on a shelf for a living." He snorted.

She smiled inwardly, "Do you want to be a wanderer, Jace? Leaving your family -?"

"_Family?_ I have no family!" he almost laughed, "The Lightwoods adopted me, they couldn't care less if I just went off and left – I bet their expecting it by now."

_Hm, well that explains the lack of resemblance,_ she thought as she stood up, her bag hanging off her shoulder.

"Listen, Clary, I ment what I said back there at the Java, and I still mean it. I want you to come back to the Institute with me where you're supposed to be, with the other Shadowhunters. We're a team now." He stepped closer to her, standing a good few inches taller.

'_Where you're supposed to be_' she repeated in her head with distain, it disgusted her that she was categorized and labeled like that – that any of them were. She didn't belong anywhere she didn't want to be.

"Why does that last sentence scare me so much?" she smiled half-heartedly.

"Because I'm a very intimidating man." He smiled his lop sided grin.

She sighed as he grabbed her bag and put it around his shoulder, "Fine, I'll stay at the Institute." _For now_.

Walking into the train station neither bothered to clean up first, dried demon mucus made her red hair stick together and had her black cotton shirt looking like she was just attacked by a slobbery Great Dane. Her pale face had smudges of dirt on it and so did her arms – that now was marked only by the permanent runes. By now both their glamour already wore off and they were visible by mundane eyes.

Stepping onto the train she grabbed her black duffle bag from Jace's hands, and they took their seats in comfortable silence. They sat parallel to each other; Clary in an empty row of seats against the train window, and Jace in an empty seat facing the window - across from Clary.

Clicking her tongue against the inside of her mouth she rummaged through her clothes, a couple pairs of shoes, and other essentials, finally pulling out her red IPod and headphones. Leaning back against her seat, the tip of her boot accidently hitting Jace's, she closed her eyes and turned the volume up, letting the song "Fall for you" fill her ears.

She thought about what she was going to do next; Call Luke? _Nah. He'll find out soon enough, and he wouldn't want me involved. Plus if he found out that I'm staying at the Institute he'd most likely tell them to keep me there. _Stay at the Institute? _Just until I know what my next plan is. _Call Simon?

She started laughing quietly, forgetting that she had left him earlier that evening at the Java. She planned on calling him later before he notified the NYPD.

Clary heard some very off putting high pitched noises coming a few feet away from her, opening one eye she found two blondes – maybe around her age – giggling and looking at Jace. She shrugged to herself, but before she could close her eyes again she seen them look her way with distain at her dirty appearance.

Meeting her eyes their cheeks lost all color, and Clary raised an eyebrow with humor.

"Goth freak," one murmured, too low for any other normal person to hear.

That's why she was surprised when Clary responded back with, "Goth wanna-be." But it didn't bother her at all what they thought, she found it amusing actually.

She looked over at Jace and saw him with his legs crossed, picking at his nail cubicles. Taking out a piece of Spiriment gum she threw it at him, and then laid back and continued listening to music.

"_Clary_…" someone whispered from a far distance, "_Clary_..." They said again, this time shaking her, "Clary…" She woke up, feeling groggy and taken off guard, she jumped, hitting _Jace_'s forehead against her own.

"Remind me never to wake you up again." He grumbled, rubbing his forehead.

She looked around the building they were in, it's tall castle like ceilings, and marble floors making it look like a queens trenches. And there were various stair cases leading every which way. She looked down at her feet and wiggled her socked toes on the white strip of carpet they both stood on – her shoes where off. And slowly but surely her brain started to work again.

"You carried me here?"

"Well you didn't sleep walk," he rolled his eyes; taking off his own shoes and then followed his socks.

Her fingers found her knotted rat's nest of hair as she stretched her arms, "I need a shower," she said mostly to herself.

Jace's eyebrows went up, "Is that an invitation?" He grinned, crossing his arms.

She shook her head, smiling at him, "So this is '_The Institute_'." She quoted darkly, looking around the huge building.

"Part of it."

Hearing a loud '_click'_ she turned around just in time to see the massive gold main doors locking shut, various handles and such going into place.

"Come on," Jace called and Clary kept pace. They walked a little ways through the halls until they came to a chubby blue cat, "Church, where are the others?" Jace asked, leaning down to scratch the feline behind the ear. With a heady purr the cat turned around, it's tail swinging wistfully in the air as it lead them to the kitchen.

Church jumped on the tall table that Alec was leaning over, squirmy his tail in Alec's face for attention, "Church," He fused, pushing the cat out of his way. With a snide hiss the cat turned the other way, his butt momentarily in Alec's face.

"Hey, Izzy, when do you think Jace -," his eyes widened, looking over at Jace and Clary in the thresh hold. "Um, hey," he coughed, "Jace. And you brought Catie!" He smiled cockily at her.

She knew that he already knew her name; Clary, but to add to fun she just smiled and nodded at him. She had no clue why he'd dislike her so quickly, maybe since Isabelle did he automatically did too. She shrugged the thought off.

"It's Clary," Jace said sternly as he walked to the fridge. Grabbing a cold piece of pizza he took a mouthful, "And '_when do you think Jace_' _what_?" he leaned against the counter.

"I was going to ask if you'd be home soon," he said bashfully with a shrug, "It was getting late."

"What are you my Mother now, Alec?" He said dryly, eating more of his pizza.

"Don't eat that, Jace!" Isabelle scolded, "It'll ruin your appetite for dinner!"

"That's for dinner?" Jace said, his nose scrunching up, looking in the pot she was currently stirring, "You're better off giving that fatal concoction to Church before I eat it. You're lucky Clary and I didn't decide to eat out tonight."

Isabelle looked over at Clary for the first time since she arrived with Jace, "Hi, Clary," she said dryly, turning her attention back to the boiling pot.

"It's nice to meet your acquaintance as well, Ms. Lightwood," Clary bowed like an old time gentlemen, with a swivel of the hand, she heard Alec cough to hide is laughter.

Isabelle huffed, mumbling as she added spices.

Taking her phone out of her back pocket she found that her cell was shut off. _That's odd_, she thought, turning it back on she found that she had missed sixteen calls from Simon and 24 texts. Dialing his number from memory she waited, on the first ring he picked up.

"Mom!?" he said frantically.

"Nope," she popped the 'p', "It's Clare's." she said calmly.

"Clary! Oh my God! I thought you were dead! Where are you? What happened?!"

"I'm at my Uncles house." She lied smoothly.

"But I just called Luke, he said you weren't there."

"My _other_ Uncle's, Simon – Listen, it doesn't matter. I'll be home soon enough anyways."

"The hell it does, Clary!" he yelled, "Where's Jocelyn? Maybe I can get answers out of her!"

"She's not here," Clary yawned, leaning against the wall.

He sighed, "Where is she then?"

"She dead," Clary laughed once, knowing full well that worst case scenario is she's in a deep coma – she seen the bottle lying on kitchen floor earlier of Jocelyn's potion.

She heard Jace splutter into his cup of milk.

"Ha. Ha. Not funny, Clary." Simon said gruffly.

"She left for a while, she'll be back soon." Clary shrugged, "Did you hit it off well with Blondie?"

"She was nice but… – Wait! I thought you were dead somewhere in a ditch and now where talking about my love life?"

"Whoa, love life? Things are getting pretty serious between you two then, eh?" She laughed.

"Clary!" He chuckled, that was the thing he loved most about his best friend. Out of any circumstances she always knew how to make him laugh.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Simon, alright? It's getting pretty late."

He sighed heavily, wanting nothing more than to talk to her _all_ night, "Night, Clary."

"See ya." She hung up.

"You two, clean up – you look like hell." Isabelle said appointedly, "Besides, Hodge will want to talk to you sooner rather than later."

Jace sighed, "I guess you're right, come on Clary, I'll show you to your room." He picked her bag off the ground – which she didn't even realize he was still carrying – and began to walk down the hallway.

**vvvvvvvvvvvTell me your thoughts below!vvvvvvvvvvvv**


	5. The Institute

_**Thanks for the reviews!**_

Walking down the halls of the Institute felt like taking a step back into the Victorian era. With the tall curtained windows that could be found at the end of each hallway, and the creaking noise of the wooden floor boards under your feet. The ceilings were high with darkness coating the corners like thick cobwebs, and all the bedroom doors were made out of oak wood, the type that made you want to reach out your hand and feel the cold smoothness of the surface under your fingertips.

Stopping at a lone elevator Jace and Clary stood there in silence – it seemed like they spent a lot of time like that – waiting for the short _ping_ of its arrival.

"Ladies first," Jace gestured to the open metal doors.

With a smile and a nod Clary stepped in, and Jace followed. She noticed that – even though he was quite callas – Jace was very chivalrous. He could have woken her up when the train stopped but he instead carried her. He grabbed her bag when they left her apartment, and he was now escorting her to the bedrooms. Must be from habit, she thought.

"This is where we get out," Jace said as he stood up straight from leaning against the wall. He led Clary down the halls where the floors turned to marble, and the hallways became oddly wider in presence. Stopping at a big wood door he held it open, "This is your bedroom," he said as they both walked in.

Clary dropped her bag on the floor near the door, and looked around; the walls were also a dark redwood, and the window held a moving picture of New York just outside the walls. The bed sat in the middle against the wall like a normal hotel with white sheets, and a night stand with a white lamp. Perhaps if I open the drawer I would find a bible, she snickered to herself.

She turned towards Jace once more and found him standing in the middle of the clean room looking like a thief who managed to break in. With his engraved devious appearance and the black wardrobe he was sporting he just looked down right sinister.

"The bathroom is just right there," he pointed to a door near the window but across from the bed, "and there should already be soaps and toiletries. When you're done I suppose Hodge would like to corrupt your little brain, so meet me down stairs in thirty minutes."

She kicked off her grey boots and with a thump they landed on the floor. Plopping down on top of the bed sheets she put her hands behind her head and crossed her jeaned legs, "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" She smirked, "Like out and about killing demons, or burning a holy temple down just for fun?"

He raised an amused eyebrow and stifled a smile.

"I mean," she yawned, "Being my tour guide must be the cherry on top of your night but I just think you could make better use of it."

"What do you suppose I should do then? Go around the city and put thumb tacks on door buzzers, or clear plastic wrap on toilet seats?" he waved his hand in the air.

"Well, don't you?" she joked dryly.

He leaned forward, amusement dancing in his eyes, "Only on Friday nights, Clary."

She laughed.

"Now I trust I'll see you in thirty minutes," he said like he didn't trust her at all. He possibly even thought she'd just up and run if he left her alone, "Anymore so and I'll have to come and get you myself." He then walked out and shut the door behind him.

She sighed heavily, and turned over to grip her pillow. She honestly felt like she was being smothered. Jocelyn never treated her like a child – even when she was one. Obviously she knew that Clary could take care of herself when in danger, and she understood that. Of course she still worried, but never like the Jocelyn Simon knew; the one that nagged, and yelled, and felt Clary's head to see if she was coming down with a fever. But it seemed Jace didn't understand that she could take care of herself – or maybe he didn't want to. Climbing out of bed and taking out a set of dark blue flannel pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt – with other necessities – Clary went into the bathroom and turned on the water just a few degrees below scolding.

His leather boots tapped against the marble flooring as he walked down the hall. As he got closer to the elevator he tried to shake off the powerful feeling that appeared more and more as he left Clary. Of course he knew that she wouldn't leave – there was no need for her too – or that she would get hurt without his constant appearance – judging by tonight his crazy little friend could take care of herself. But the pull still pulled, and the constant protective nature taking over grew stronger. He never felt this way about his sister Isabelle – even in the middle of brutal demon fights –, so why Clary? Stopping to wait for the elevator he rubbed the bridge of his nose in contemplation. All this worrying was making his get a migraine.

Getting into the elevator he descended downward to his room, only a floor down from Clary's, and started to take off his snot crusted jacket. That never happened before to him – he saw many things in his years, and an equal amount of things has happened to him, but never did a demon sneeze on him. He was surprised that it didn't burn like the hot splatter of their blood, yet he was more surprised that no one threw up. Perhaps it had happened to her before, he though with a smirk.

"Hey," Alec stopped him, "Thought I'd find you here."

"In my own home? What an imagination you got there, Alec." Jace crossed his arms and leaned on the white wall, "What do you want?"

"The girl -,"

"_Clary_," Jace said swiftly.

"Yes_ Clary_, what's the deal? Is she just staying with you for tonight, or…?" he asked.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his golden hair, "She's not a night cap buddy, Alec, and she's staying in the room upstairs." He started to walk away, but he felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him back.

"Why?" He asked quizzically.

Jace shrugged boredly, "Ask her."

Alec pulled him back once more, "For how long?"

Jace groaned irritatedly, "Ask _her_."

"Well, how'd you find her today?"

He turned around on his heels, dusting off Alec's hand from his shoulder sighing loudly, "Ask _her_, Alec. You know, it'll do you some good to talk to other people besides family, and Church."

Alec pushed his hands into his blue jeans, "I talk to other people." He murmured with embarrassment.

"The voices in your head do not count." Jace said as he started to walk away from his brother and into his room, slamming the door behind him.

The Lightwoods and a freshly showered Clary and Jace gathered around the large table in the library. She was impressed by the size, and the contents it held in the never ending shelves. She could picture herself actually taking a break for _one_ night out of the month, sitting down, and turning the pages of a good book. She hadn't rewarded herself like that in years.

"Hey," Clary heard a voice echo throughout the room, making her slowly turn around.

"Yes?" She diverted her eyes and looked over at Isabelle. She was leaning over the wooden table, and if it were for the light turtle neck she was wearing _everything_ would have been out on display.

"What's that Rune on your arm? I've never seen it before." She raised a perfect jet black eyebrow.

"Yeah," Alec agreed from the other side of the room, "Or that one," he pointed gingerly.

Clary stared down at her crossed arms, looking at the Runes of her creation. Sometimes she conjured up new Runes and drew them on herself the same day to see what would happen. Luke called her careless for her own well-being, and her Mother seldom said anything about Clary's special '_gift_'.

She sighed heavily, and lifted her narrowed gaze to the children of the Institute, "You'll know soon enough." She said softly.

Just then Hodge came through the library's doorway, his silver hair tangled on his dew sweated face as he carried several giant books, putting them on his desk with a loud booming '_thud'_. He sat down on his chair behind the desk and dabbed his face with a handkerchief, and smiled at the her, his breathing ragged, "Hello," he said as he organized his desks papers, "Forgive me for my tardiness, I was stuck in a bit of a rut. And what may I call you, my dear?"

"My names Clary," she nodded towards him.

He smiled, "My name is Hodge, I am the New York Institutes tutor for the children." He then whistled suddenly, the wip like sound cutting her ears. Out of know where a black blur came swooping down from one of the high ceiling banisters and landed on top of Hodges desk, "And you may call him Hugin."

The Black Raven eyed Clary for a moment, its head turned to and fro, side to side, looking at the girl in front of him.

_Creepy_, Clary thought,_ what is it about birds_? And she could do nothing else but stare at his black iris'.

"Problem's with birds, Clary?" Hodge asked after a moment of silence.

"Just giant black ones that swoop down from odd places, and stare at you like they would fresh road kill." She swallowed in disgust. _Quit looking at me you putrid thing_!

She heard Jace laugh from the table. He was teasing Church the cat with dried pieces of beef jerky, dangling them just above the cat's head, and Church was giving him some rather possessed noises of his short lived patience.

"Oh, forgive me, Clary," Hodge said as if he forgot himself, "Children, I assume Clary would like for the room to be cleared right about now, off you go."

Jace's eyes snapped up with surprise, "What? You expect me to leave? Clary wants at least _me_ to stay – don't you?" he pleaded like a petulant child, she seen Alec roll his eyes from the big chair he occupied in the corner.

Hodge looked startled at the outburst, "Is that true?"

Clary looked at all three of the teenagers faces as she deliberated silently; even Church was at full attention, sitting on the table corner in wait, his tail swooshing in the air. She sighed, "Most of them don't trust me as it is, they all might as well pull up a chair." And she did as so. Taking a seat from the vas table she leaned back in it and yawned involuntarily. "What do you want to ask?"

"Well first, would you like a beverage, some tea, perhaps?"

She shook her head, tea always left a bitter taste in her mouth and gave her a headache, "No, thank you."

"What's your full name?" she was surprised to hear this, not from Hodge, but from Alec.

She bit the inside of her cheek, picking at a spot on her bottoms; _Fray… Morgenstern_…, "Clarissa Adele Fairchild." She answered quietly.

There was a deafening silence that flowed through the air, and the quick crash of a –

"You're lying," Isabelle counterpointed, uncertainty lacing the words.

She shot a fiery glare at Isabelle; there wasn't much that Isabelle could do that could make Clary angry at her. And the many things that she already tried to say to Clary to make her feel less than superior didn't bother her the slightest bit. But the one thing that got under Clary's skin was when people didn't believe her when she was in fact _being truthful_. It wasn't like she gave information about herself out to every Joe Shmo.

Isabelle withered under her stare.

"You can't just expect someone to tell you the truth and then disagree with them out of stubbornness," Jace pointed out to his sister, "Either trust that she's telling the truth or trust nothing at all."

"Good point indeed, Jace." Hodge nodded, "Go on, Clary."

"I was born in 1991, making me 16 this Sunday. My Mother was abducted today by an unknown source, which is why I am staying here – for however long that might be, I have no clue." She could almost feel Jace stiffen where he sat, but it was gone faster than it appeared.

"What's your Mother's name?"

"Jocelyn Fairchild." She said point blank. She hated sharing this with Hodge or any one of them. She felt like she was begging for help, like she was the poor parentless victim staying with the big bad Institute kids for safety, so she decided to steer away from that topic as soon as she could.

"I'm sorry to hear about your Mother, Clary." Hodge said remorsefully, "And you're Father?"

She felt a mix of emotions tighten at the pit of her stomach – it happened whenever she thought about her true father, Valentine Morgenstern; a melting pot of admiration, and sadness, confusion yet pride. She was Valentines daughter, and she considered him as much of a Father as a frog considered a pond their home. But she hid this information only for her ears. He was the villain in their eyes and they'd think she was the devils spawn.

"He died before I was born." She said for the 500th time in her life, she wanted to laugh at herself; over the years this fictional Dad she created almost became a real person to her, like his story actually happened. "I never knew him." She shrugged.

"Was he a -?"

"Mundane," she nodded, even though it couldn't have been more of a lie. _Where are your suspicions now, Isabelle?_ She asked herself dryly.

"But that's forbidden!" Alec gasped.

"She wasn't playing the '_Shadowhunter'_ part in that point of her life. And she didn't want me to be a part of her world, _her past._ But I did become a part of it. I found out when I was 7." That was all that she decided to disclose to them, not the how or the occasional question of where, and the sentence hung in the hair like a brightly colored piñata that they all seemed like they wanted to crack open.

Hodge looked like he was in very deep thought, rubbing his chin, "I see," was all he inquired, mostly to himself, "You come from a very long line of great Shadowhunters, Fairchild." He smiled thoughtfully, "Anything else?"

Clary shook her head innocently, "Nope," she said with a combination of another yawn – she almost tapped her own wrists for her lack of consciousness. She hated that even she – though very seldom – couldn't _always_ control her own bodies drowsiness.

"Alright then," he said as he stood up, "I'm sure we've all had a very long day and would like to head off to bed."

They all stood, the screech of the chair legs made the only sound and the soft murmurs of Alec and Isabelle.

"Well that was interesting," she scoffed, mostly to herself.

"You are a very interesting person," Jace said from behind her as they walked out of the Library, "You know you can always go into the Library whenever you want, since you love it so much." He said like the know-it-all he was.

"How do you know that I love it?"

"It was the way your face lit up like Christmas day when you saw all of the books." Jace said softly, his lips very close to her ear.

There was a burst of wind that flew past her and then in front of them stood Alec and Isabelle, blocking their way. Both of them looking accusatory.

"What?" Jace sighed heavily.

Clary, on the other hand, didn't have the strength to do much of anything at the moment, so, sadly, she had to spare them her equally annoyed banter. Picking up Church - that scampered just below by her legs, she sleepily held him in her arms and rubbed behind the blue cats ear.

"You still haven't said anything about the runes," Isabelle pointed out, her hands on her hips. Alec, like the good brother he was, nodded his head in agreement.

Clary smiled sleepily as she walked around them, "Curiosity killed the cat." She said conspiratorially close to Isabelle's ear. She laughed as Church quickly jumped from her hold and ran down the hall.

_**Honestly, THANKYOU for the reviews! Sorry for the late update, I'll try not to let that happen again!**_


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